


Renamed

by ThoughtsCascade



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Other, here there be gerblins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 02:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17819921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoughtsCascade/pseuds/ThoughtsCascade
Summary: Fantasy Shakespeare said “That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” He was wrong. Names are important, even if we don’t quite know why.





	Renamed

Your name is Barry J. Bluejeans. Being alive is currently… sort of weird. You have the distinct feeling that maybe you shouldn’t be.

Not that you’re suicidal or anything, you’re not, it just… doesn’t feel like you should have a body, you guess?

It’s weird.

Your name is Barry J. Bluejeans.

This feeling, of course, isn’t helped by the fact that the first thing you experienced after waking up in some dank-ass cave a few days ago was a talking rock. Of all things. The voice which came from it was very crackly, and possibly undead. Or… possibly your- ...

What? Weird thought slippage, there.

Your name is Barry J. Bluejeans.

So, voice you think might have been undead. Not that you know much about the undead, or spirits, or what-have-you. You’d tried checking, but when you read even the most basic of necromancy works your head begins to spin.

Another… _interesting puzzle_ was the fact that the voice had said “Your name is Barry J. Bluejeans.”

That was far from everything it had told you, but that name was the important bit. Because you were fairly certain that no, your name was not Barry Bluejeans, but Sildar Hallwinter.

But Barry J. Bluejeans… felt right. A lot more right than you could imagine Sildar Hallwinter feeling.

It might have been a nickname given to you? But you can’t remember anyone calling you it, or who gave it to you, or even when or where you could have gotten it.

So after a few weeks of going by Sildar Hallwinter and failing to naturally respond to it even once, you decided okay, sure, you were Barry J. Bluejeans. Why not. Hopefully you weren’t, like, falling into some undead thrall or something, between listening to the stone and taking the name it had given you, a name you were fairly certain wasn’t your own.

You wear blue jeans and embrace it.

Not that you know much about thralls. It was almost like you... can’t think about them, a decidedly weird experience that, with the advice of the stone, you decide to try and avoid.

Except you also have trouble holding on to this name. It feels like if you don’t say it every few sentences, it will slip out of your grasp, the same way any knowledge of necromancy does. Necromancy you’re fine with losing, who gave a shit? Everyone knew not to do it anyways or risk facing the wrath of the Raven Queen (and it was less a risk than a certainty). But the name feels somehow much more important than necromancy.

Your name is Barry J. Bluejeans.

So you say it as much as you can. Interject it wherever you can. Continue a conversation in a bar, say “Oh yeah, I heard about that. By the way, my name is Barry J. Bluejeans. But yeah, I heard the same thing about the Black Spider, funnily enough.”

Or “I’d love to have some of that Thirty Garlic Clove Chicken, yes. I’d love a sample. Your name is Taako, right? My name is Barry J. Bluejeans.”

But that exchange had never happened in your life, you’d only just met the elf named Taako. Okay, whatever. Weird example, moving on.

Wait, what were you just…?

Names. Right. Real example time, that had actually happened.

You might say “This is wonderful. Thank you. Thank you, you kind soul. I will never ever forget this kindness that you have done for me. My name is Barry J. Bluejeans and I'm ready to kick some goblin ass. Where did they go?”

And then go on to say “I will take those, yes. These are my favorite clothes. My name is Barry J. Bluejeans.”

Then “Yeah. Let's get the hell outta this cave. I am not a big fan of this cave. My name is Barry Bluejeans.”

It just feels like you need to say it constantly. A obsession, almost. And sure, people laugh, or think you’re an idiot, or assume that you’re full of yourself, or all of the above. But you are a hundred certain that that’s better than forgetting the name. Your name. If possibly for no other reason than the fact you chose it.

You are absolutely terrified of forgetting...well, almost anything. Just on a visceral level. No rational reason why. Maybe you are undead. You wouldn’t know, every time you consider it the thought seems impossible to wrap your head around.

A lot of things are difficult to wrap your head around.

Your name is Barry J. Bluejeans.

You are missing someone who you love.

Maybe...maybe a group of people?

A love that defined and redeemed you, whatever the hell that meant.

No clue.

Your name is Barry J. Bluejeans.

Maybe you should have just gone with those adventurers.

But you’ve heard that they were brave, and strong, and more than capable of handling themselves. The stone told you so, and you’d already decided to trust it wholeheartedly.

It also gave you a lot of trouble looking at the elf. You trust him about as much as you chose to trust the stone, and the other two nearly as much. But the elf is really fucking difficult to look at. Not- it’s not like he’s an eyesore or anything, the opposite, really. You… you don’t think you’re into him?

Your name is Barry J. Bluejeans.

For some reason looking at this elf fills you with more emotions than you know what to do with. It hurts, and it makes you feel more alive than you can remember feeling for a long time, and you get the same slippery feeling when you look at him as you do when you say that you’re Barry J. Bluejeans.

You kind of just really want to sleep, honestly. Because this is frustrating, following instructions but not knowing the end goal.

So you do. You have a trust in the competence of these three, a trust you feel you ought to have in yourself, must have had in yourself at one point. Because you know on a- on an intellectual level, you know you’re smart. You spent years studying.

You just...can’t really figure out what you studied or how you’re smart.

And it’s hard, sometimes, when you feel like you can’t even remember your name if you’re not constantly repeating it.

Your name is Barry J. Bluejeans.

Time to rest. It’s easy enough to rent a room above the bar. The cave had been full of dough.

Take a nap, check. Wake up to a serenade of screams, che- what? You run downstairs only to see your employer (ex-employer, now?) literally on fire.

Ugh. You didn’t even want to fucking work for this dude, you don’t… you don’t know how to fix this. You try to talk him down after telling the barkeep to help get everyone out. Really you’d much prefer to be the one getting everyone to safety, but you guess you technically know this guy best out of everyone here? Not that that’s saying much. You guess you technically know him as well as you know anyone else, since as far as you can tell you don’t...actually have friends? Despite your instincts screaming at you about the people you love being how you define yourself.

You run out. Run into the boys. You feel so relieved to see them, to see Gundren hasn’t felled them. It’s like, without realizing it, the safety of Taako, Magnus, and Merle was more important to you than anything else, but you didn’t realize it until after the fact.

You’re asking them to talk him down, looking at Merle specifically though you aren’t sure why you’re so certain he ought to be the one to do it. Like you said earlier, they weren’t exactly close.

But you just inherently trust Merle.

You watch Magnus prepare to go in, and Gundren come out before he can. You’re somehow unsurprised when Taako uses Charm Person. You find yourself equally unsurprised when it fails.

Not that… you don’t expect Taako to fail typically (which is a weird thought in and of itself) but…

Where were you?

Well you’re not surprised Taako failed.

Your name is Barry J. Bluejeans.

Everyone watches Merle talk him down, seem to succeed in it. You stay silent. Trusting Merle to have this handled.

You aren’t sure why you do, but you guess that’s irrelevant.

Then, it all goes wrong. Gundren gets shot (your mind feels the need to clarify with an arrow, but what else would it be?), Taako is, as somewhat expected (why?) reacts first, Gundren asks who did that. You nervously say it wasn’t you.

The stone told you to not die for six months if you could help it.

That was like, eleven days ago.

So you know. Not off to a great start?

Because you, uh, you really fucking beef it.

And then...you’re not dead? And oh. Oh.

Your name is Barry J. Bluejeans, and you remember everything.

**Author's Note:**

> My first taz fanfic! I was relistening and realized Barry says his name a lot in the first arc, so I got this idea as to why. A bit of a mirror to Davenport, though unintentionally. Hope everyone enjoyed, concrit welcome, etc. Thanks for reading!


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